Stacker climbs up, and up and up, finally coming out under Panama City’s clear dome. Underneath, the clatter and spark of human industry, above, the rattle and lightening of tonight’s thunderstorm. A flash illuminates where Mako’s tucked herself into an L-joint.
"Room for one more?"
She nods, unwrapping one arm to pat her girder. Stacker ducks down and twists, managing the tight space gracefully. Mostly.
"Are you used to this sort of thing? All the," Stacker waves out, "cracks and booms?"
"Yes. Storms are nice to watch."
"I’ll take your word for it. Always used to scare me."
Mako’s hand creeps out settles over his.
"It’s okay. I’ll protect you."